Blair Waldorf's Secret
by LikeSplittingAtoms
Summary: Blair Waldorf has a secret... and Chuck Bass may know what it is.
1. Chapter 1 The Subway

You always know when you're being watched. Even if you can't see or hear, there is a sort of sixth sense that draws your attention to the fact that something, somehow, is not right.

Blair Waldorf sat on the lone metal bench in front of Station 12, stiff as a board, frozen in fear. She didn't dare turn around. She could almost feel a set of eyes boring into her back, and the very thought of the stranger somewhere behind her sent chills down her back. Her mind raced as she went through every possible means of escape, should it come to that. She could run, but wouldn't get very far in her black heels. The train that would take her home from school would arrive soon enough, she was certain, but if it didn't, she could always just hop on whatever train happened to be in the station at the time. Run to the conductor for help; plead the passengers to dial 911.

"_Paranoid_," she accused herself. A smile played on her frozen lips as she found the resolve to cross her legs and sit up straight. She tossed her wavy brown hair behind her shoulder and straightened her black lacy jacket, clutching her purse a little tighter to her body. "_I am Blair Waldorf_," she told herself. "_Irrational fear is not what I do_." So, if that were the case, why couldn't she stop thinking about the very nearly empty expanse of space behind her?

In that moment, two hands reached around from behind her and covered her eyes in one swift movement. "Guess who?"

"Chuck Bass!" Blair spat out accusingly, shoving his hands away from her face. Her heart was beating a mile a minute, and threatened to leave her body altogether, or maybe just stop, dead from fear. She turned abruptly in her seat to face him, preparing to give him the verbal thrashing of a lifetime. _How dare he?_ It would have been a far more satisfying moment for Blair had he not been chuckling in that calm, collected way that seemed to dominate his demeanor no matter the situation. Nothing upset Chuck very much; particularly not some venomous words from their high school's infamous drama queen. He casually rounded the bench and took a seat opposite Blair, taking in her furious expression.

"Oh, come on, princess," he chided. He seemed almost offended that Blair hadn't found his prank funny.

"For the millionth time," Blair began through gritted teeth, "Do not call me 'Princess.'" She glared at him, willing the smirk to disappear from his face. Even in her fury, she couldn't wipe the self-satisfied expression from his sinister yet handsome features. The frustration won out over the anger. She turned her body away from him, folding her arms across her chest and setting her face back into its usual blank expression. She refused to let Chuck think he'd won something, especially something concerning Blair.

"Don't tell me you didn't find that funny," Chuck asked evenly, his deep voice making the question sound almost threatening.

"I didn't find that funny," Blair repeated evenly, staring straight ahead. "Further, you're an ass."

Chuck laughed, settling back into the armrest of the chair, resting a leg on the bench. How could he be so casual?

"The pot calling the kettle black," Chuck remarked.

"Correction," Blair started, turning her head towards him. "The pot calling the kettle an ass."

"Guilty as charged," he said. He leaned closer to Blair, so their faces were no more than a few feet apart. He said quietly, "But then, so are you."

"I'm sorry, is there a reason you're still here?" Blair snapped, her cheeks heating at the insult. She was very ready for the conversation to be over. God, what was keeping that train?

"Of course," he answered evenly, unshaken. "I don't waste my time, Princess." Blair opened her mouth to berate him for using the nickname again, but he continued without pause. "I'm going on a trip."

"Oh yeah?" Blair asked, a challenge in her tone. She was curious to see what kind of excuse he was going to cook up. "Where are you going?"

He paused for a moment, letting a smile play on his lips. "Javascript," he told her.

Blair's blood ran cold. What had he just said? For a moment, she allowed herself to be lost in the sound of the trains rushing by and the electronic announcements over the loudspeaker. The cool breeze from the trains and the cement ground her feet rested upon suddenly seemed unreal. Sound and sense blurred. Her only reality was the chilling possibility that someone had discovered her secret.

"Excuse me?" she said quietly, hoping her face didn't reveal how she really felt.

"A cyber café in the Warehouse district," he told her by means of an answer. "Javascript. Have you heard of it?" he asked innocently. Blair caught his eye, wondering what sort of game he was playing. She looked for his trademark smirk, and that sinister, superior twinkle in his eye, but couldn't find it. Either he was a better liar than she'd given him credit for, or he genuinely didn't know what Blair suspected he might.


	2. Chapter 2 Boarding

"I know it," Blair answered finally, refusing to meet his expectant stare. There, that was ambivalent enough. It wasn't a lie. At the same time, it wasn't quite the whole truth either.

"I had a feeling you might say that," Chuck murmured.

_Oh, God. He knew._ Blair was starting to sweat. But then, how could he really know? He had a way of making people think he was more in control, more knowledgeable, than he really was. Three years of middle school and one year in high school with him had taught her that. She set her mouth in a hard line and turned sharply to face him, rallying her infamous mean streak.

"And just why would you of all people be interested in spending your Friday in a cyber café in the Warehouse district?" she snapped. "Did your hooker cancel?"

"Ouch," Chuck returned, his smile revealing that he was more entertained than offended. "Actually, Bart wants to invest in a coffee shop and left it up to me to choose which one," he explained. "From a short list," he added, almost sheepishly.

"Well, how very generous of him," Blair sneered mockingly. Bart Bass, Chuck's enormously wealthy father, was trying to work his delinquent fifteen-year-old son into the family business already. Who knew, maybe Chuck would end up working in his father's company, and they'd discuss business at the dinner table over filet mignon and champagne. _How precious_.

"Anyway," Chuck continued with a dramatic sigh, ignoring Blair's remark. "I gave my driver the night off; thought I'd take the train." He eyed Blair devilishly. "I happen to have on good authority that you take this train I need five days a week."

"Stalking is illegal in all fifty states," Blair informed him, squirming in her seat as she leaned forward, hoping to see her train coming down the track. No such luck. Did he really intend on getting on the train with her? The very thought threatened to drive her into a panic attack. _Stay calm_, she told herself. _Maybe he'll get bored and go away_.

"Please, Princess. I have better things to do than stalk you," he sneered.

"Which is clearly evidenced by you actually stalking me," Blair retorted, hoping she appeared as bored as she was trying to be. In reality, her mind was at war with her pulse. "You know, you could salvage your reputation."

"How's that?" he asked, not seeing where she was going.

"You can leave. Then you wouldn't be a stalker; you'd just still be a womanizer," she answered, leveling Chuck with a superior look. "I bet if you call now, you could still fit into your hooker's schedule." Blair, satisfied that she'd put him in his place, watched the empty train tracks with a smug expression clearly written on her face. She was so pleased with herself, she almost didn't care that the train was finally pulling into the station. Almost.

"Well, it's been great, Chuck," Blair told him happily, getting up and smiling sweetly at him. She adjusted the strap of her purse on her shoulder, and looked off into space for a moment. "Actually, on second thought, it's been awful," she corrected, removing all joy from her expression. "I'm leaving now. You should really go make that phone call." With that, she spun on her heel and took off for the train, boarding, swiping her pass, and taking a seat, satisfied that everything was right with the world. She'd won their verbal battle, and she was safely on the train, all by herself. Best of all, she felt satisfied that Chuck did not actually know her secret. Even if he had a hunch, the fact that she was now alone served to prove to her that he was just as clueless about Blair's real life as the rest of their prep school was. If he'd known her secret, nothing on earth could have kept him from getting on that train. Blair set her purse on her lap and pulled out her iPod, settling in for her fifteen-minute ride to the Warehouse district. She was staring peacefully out the window at the grey cement walls of the station, watching the bricks begin to pass by slowly and then blur as the train picked up speed, when suddenly something else caught her attention out of the corner of her eye.

"Is this seat taken, Princess?"


	3. Chapter 3 Train Ride

"Seriously?" Blair spat out, twisting her body to face her very unwelcome companion.

"I'm sorry, was that a 'Yes,' or a 'No'?" Chuck asked calmly.

"What happened to that phone call? Did Bart rescind your phone privileges?" Blair asked hotly, ignoring his question.

"Worse, in fact. He gave me a job to do, and I hate to disappoint," he replied, smoothly sliding into the seat beside Blair.

"And yet you disappoint so often," Blair returned snidely, violently shoving her iPod back into her purse before folding her arms and turning to face the window.

"How would you know?" he asked, a self-satisfied smirk settling over his features. Blair watched his expression in the reflection from the window, fighting an involuntary shudder.

"Go sit somewhere else," Blair demanded, nodding her head towards a seat across the aisle.

Chuck rolled his eyes but complied. "As you wish, Princess." He moved across the aisle without another word, just a curious look back at Blair as she faced the window, contemplating her options. It seemed that despite her best efforts, he was indeed intent on getting off the train with her. She had to lose him. Nowhere she could go would be safe. But what was she going to do? Run? And be the laughingstock of the school on Monday. Hell, she was ruined either way.

There was only one viable option. She'd go with him to Javascript. He'd stay for twenty minutes or so and harass Blair over a cup of coffee, and then he'd be gone. It was barely four o'clock. They'd be off the train in ten minutes, walk five minutes to the restaurant, linger until quarter to five, and then the whole ordeal would be over. Blair would have plenty of time to get where she needed to be; and she'd be able to do so without being watched.

"Chuck!" she yelled, knowing what she needed to do, no matter how much she hated the idea.

He turned expectantly, smug and smiling. It was almost as if he knew what she was about to say. "You bellowed?"

"I'm coming with you," she huffed.

Chuck laughed outright. "Who said I wanted your company?"

"Please," Blair hissed mockingly, not to be outdone. "We've already established that you're stalking me."

"No," Chuck corrected amiably, "You decided I was stalking you. There was no consensus. It was all you, in your pretty, conceited little head." He was having far too much fun messing around with her. He got up, gripping the metal bars for support, and made his way back to the seat beside Blair. "Not that I'm denying it-"

"Do you have a point?" Blair snapped, rapidly losing patience.

Chuck's face fell a bit. She was taking the fun out of his game of cat and mouse. "Yes," he answered after collecting himself. "You're coming with me."

"Great," she declared darkly.

"Perfect," Chuck muttered. He turned his head from her, facing the empty aisle, his face contorted in what may have been… could it be discouragement?

Blair stopped herself immediately. What was this? Did she actually feel bad for Chuck Bass? Impossible. He was dangerously on the edge of unearthing what she had been struggling desperately to hide for the past four years, and for that, he deserved no mercy.

What he deserved was a swift kick in his pampered behind.


End file.
